. . They're Here They are the Saintly Source of Good; __The Keepers of The Truth. They’re seeking you. You knew they would. Stand up. Speak out. You know you should. They want your eye. They want your tooth. They want your wide-eyed, prideful youth. __They’re cloaked in mask and hood. They’re pushing fear. They’re selling cheer. __They’re here to save the day. They’re here to steer. They’re here to sneer. They’re here to dox the insincere. They’re here to lead the lax astray. They’re here to muzzle those who pray __For mist and myth to clear. They’re here to slight. They’re here to blight __With pious politics; Segregating black and white, They’ll fight with cold, self-righteous might In self-made wars they’ll choose to fix When vampires wear a crucifix __And bask in sunshine’s light. They’re here with hormone no-go zones; __Fixed sexes don’t exist. Each science-savvy soul who combs Through X and Y like Sherlock Holmes Will find the proof of truth dismissed. Just pick a gender from a list--- __To hell with chromosomes! They’re here for you. They’re here for me. __They’re here to twist the mind. They’ve got the lock. We need the key. They’re here to steal our liberty--- Some here, some there, until we find Our ears are deaf and eyes are blind __To inhumanity. They’re here to con with candied bait; __It’s cloying on my tongue. They’re here to bilk and bloviate With luscious lies. I’ll take a plate Of salty honesty, unsung. I won’t eat spin served by a Hun. __I’ll starve till they’re undone. . . Golden Guidance “Rules are for the obedience of fools and the guidance of wise men.” ---Douglas Bader Rules are tools for dreamless fools To trudge the mundane track; A drear, persistent, rigid list; An autocratic tack. Rules constrain the curious brain: Don’t think outside the box. Don’t seek to cheat the preset beat. Do not outfox the fox. Rules bind and blind the winding mind. They stifle thoughts that stray. The underhanded upper hand Keeps brilliance at bay. Rules finger-wag and then they gag The dauntless and defiant. Their foremost task, if one dare ask--- To mute the non-compliant. The tethered tongue will shun the fun Of songs that shine and soar. Until the humdrum comes undone No wondrous words will roar. Rules crush the heart of works of art; Kill miracles to be--- No Master’s friend, no Bard’s godsend, No creativity. The wise despise the rulebook’s guise Of care beyond compare. Rejoicing in sagacious voice, They warn the unaware… That rules are tools for dreamless fools To trudge the mundane track; A drear, persistent, rigid list; An autocratic tack. . . Being Human While pondering upon the human race, I marvel at the artistry and skill Of blazing brains and fingers kissed with grace; That tireless drive to thrive---the wit and will To fire the mind to seek and find and build A life of truth and beauty, hope and care; To gild grey days with golden glimmers filled With glorious gifts composed with joy and flair. Yet still the bloody gutters reek of death; The gory spills that quench the henchmen’s thirst. I mourn fierce fists that staunch essential breath. The human race is blessed. It’s also cursed. As one soul saves a frail and ailing life, Another hacks a heart out with a knife. . . Susan Jarvis Bryant is from Kent, England. She is now an American citizen living on the coastal plains of Texas. Susan has poetry published in the UK webzine, Lighten Up On Line, The Daily Mail, and Openings (anthologies of poems by Open University Poets).